Chapter 17
With my second cup of coffee gone, I decide to tear the place apart, searching for my ring.
It might not be worth a lot of money, but it was the first gift I bought myself with the money earned from my first successful mermaid gig.
It’s a promise to never give up and to do anything for my dream.
I’ve had it for years and my finger feels incomplete without it.
First, I search the couch, between every cushion and underneath it.
Nothing. I grab a flashlight and look on the ground.
I move random things and search behind them.
Not sure how the ring would slip off after wearing it all these years, but something happened to it.
Finally, I search my room and the bed. Nada. Where the hell could it be?
Did Sully take it?
My phone buzzes. Is that him admitting his crime?
Unfortunately, the text is from my mom reminding me of our shopping date today. I look at the time. Shit. I’m late.
I rush into the bathroom to brush my hair and put on a little makeup. With fresh clothes on, I slip on my shoes and fly out the door with my purse.
Mom’s sitting in the bookstore’s Starbucks at a table with a coffee in hand as she leafs through a magazine.
“Hey, Mom. Hope you weren’t waiting long.” I sit in the chair across from her.
She glances up from the article she’s reading. “It’s fine. How are you? Your hair looks a little dull.”
I run my fingers through the hair lying on my shoulder. It looks fine to me. “Must’ve forgotten to condition last night. But I’m good. How are you?”
She’s still studying my hair. “It’s all that swimming. Those chemicals are not good for your hair.”
Of course it’s because of my swimming and not running out the door without more than a few strokes from a hairbrush.
Mom closes the magazine and takes a sip of her coffee. “I’m well. Your dad bought a new grill. I’m afraid he’s going to burn the house down. Had to have him move it far away from the back porch.”
She finishes her drink and tosses it in the trash as we leave the bookstore and enter the mall. For a while we walk side by side in silence. It’s nice and peaceful. She motions to a clothing store and we duck inside.
“What do you think of this dress? It would be lovely to interview in. Cute but professional.” She lifts a black and white dress with a sweetheart neckline that’s knee length.
“It’s cute. But I don’t need anything to interview in.” I sift through a rack of jeans, waiting for her to blow up again over my terrible life choices.
She sighs, hanging the dress back up. “Oh, Ronnie. I wish you’d expand your horizons. You can do your mermaid hobby on the weekends, but you really should get serious and—”
“Mom. I told you, mermaiding isn’t a hobby. It’s a career.” I grab my phone and type in my website to show her it’s more than a silly waste of time. “Let me show you my website.”
She shakes her head and grabs a shirt, pressing it against her chest and checking it out in the mirror. “That’s fine, dear. I believe you.” Her flat tone clearly saying the opposite.
A little while later, we grab pepperoni pretzel bites and continue to walk around the mall. She stops by a jewelry store looking at diamond rings in the case.
I eye the salesman warily, hoping he doesn’t come over thinking we’re going to buy something.
“Do you remember Stacy?” Mom asks, still studying each ring.
“Yeah.” How can I forget Mom’s best friend’s daughter?
She’s the same age as me but does everything better.
Rode her bike without training wheels first. Won the spelling bee in high school.
Went off to law school and graduated top of her class.
She doesn’t do it on purpose, but I’ve always lived in Stacy’s shadow.
“She’s getting married next spring to a partner in her law firm.”
“Glad she found someone.” I don’t know what else to say. I haven’t physically seen Stacy since high school, but Mom always shows me pictures.
“He proposed in Hawaii at sunset. Very romantic.” Sure enough, she’s searching for photos on her phone and shoving it under my nose.
There’s Stacy, beautiful, successful, and now with a giant rock on her finger. Then there’s me, a silly mermaid who’s single and slumming it in LA, according to my mother.
“Where are they getting married if he proposed in Hawaii? Already made the stakes quite high,” I joke, turning to look at a pearl necklace to avoid my mother’s hate-filled glare.
“Veronica, honestly.” She tucks her phone away. Thank God. “You need to settle down soon too. I know you were with…what’s his name?”
I flinch. My ex only met my parents twice.
He didn’t like family gatherings. Mom tolerated him because his grandparents went to Harvard and are successful doctors.
Sadly, he fell far from that tree. But naturally I’m attracted to rotten apples, hence why I’m not dating anymore. Just laser focused on my mermaiding.
“Not important. I’m happily single.”
“But you live with a roommate.” Her nose scrunches with disgust.
“So do most people in LA. Actually, I’m lucky to live with just one roommate and not five.”
“Sweetie, I’m just looking out for you. Don’t you want to have kids?”
Here we go.
“No.” I sigh and tug her away from the jewelry counter as the salesman wanders over. “I don’t want kids. I don’t need a man. I’m perfectly happy with my life.”
“As a mermaid,” she says in a huff, tossing her pretzel bites away half-eaten.
“Yes.”
She checks her smart watch. “I should go home and take Bishop out on a walk. You need to come over for dinner sometime. Your dad misses you.”
“I’ll check my calendar and get back to you.”
She kisses my cheek. “Love you.”
As she walks away, a weight yanks me down. It’s exhausting being around her. If only she could take the time to understand the mermaiding industry, she wouldn’t think of me as a joke anymore. But she hears that word, and it triggers her.
When I open the front door, Alice is cleaning. “Am I in the wrong apartment?” I snicker, running my finger along a bookcase and it’s clean. Haven’t seen that in forever.
“Very funny. When I got here it looked like a Veronica tornado hit. The couch was crooked. Every cabinet door was open. The remotes were in the bathroom. It was insane. After fixing everything, thought I’d tidy up since Emily’s coming over later to watch a movie.”
“Oh, shit. I forgot about the mess. I had to go shopping with my mom and…it went how you’re imagining.”
She frowns. “Went to hell.”
“So fast. I have third degree burns.” I look at my empty finger, remembering my mermaid ring is missing.
“You didn’t happen to see my ring anywhere? I lost it.”
Alice fake gasps. “The ring you never take off even when showering?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah. That ring.”
“Haven’t seen it. Sorry.” She eyes my bedroom and then me. “Maybe someone took it.”
“What?”
She flips her hair dramatically. “I don’t know. Looks like someone had some fun in the sack and maybe he took it.”
“Maybe…”
Alice laughs. “Text him and see. Emily should be here soon.” She gives me a look as if asking me to disappear.
“I’ll be in my room doing orders from my website. People really love the pillow and new shirt options I added. And don’t worry. I’ll have my noise cancelling headphones on the entire time.”
After finishing my one hundred and forty orders and setting them against my closet since Alice would skin me alive if I put the packages in the living room, I lie on my bed and stare at my naked hand.
Thinking back, I do remember having the ring while watching Die Hard because Sully commented on how cute it was when I reached for popcorn. So, it’s in the apartment…or is it?
I lie across the bed on my stomach, kicking my legs in the air. He’s going to think I’m weird asking him if he ripped a ring right off my finger while I was asleep, but I have to know. It’s that or there’s a ghost who is vicious enough to watch me run around with my head chopped off.
Before I chicken out, I type out a quick text and hit send. I roll over onto my back, clenching my teeth. My stomach twists with nerves, tight and fluttery, like it’s trying to fold in on itself.
What are you thinking? Why would a rock star want your damn ring that’s not even worth a hundred bucks? When did you become the center of the universe?
I press my fingers into my eyes as a bitter laugh cuts through my teeth.
The phone vibrates with his reply.
You mean this?
And he shares a picture of my ring on his thumbnail.
Fucking bastard!
Sudden rage spikes through my veins. I bolt into a sitting position with my feet planted on the floor. After inhaling a breath, I type my reply.
Why did you take my ring!?
To ensure I’d see you again. Come over. I’ll send a car.
Kinda feels serial killer-like now.
You can strip-search me if it makes you feel better.
Going to do more than that when I get my hands on you
Can’t wait. Car will be there in 15 mins!
What am I doing? I brush my hands over my torso. Getting your ring back of course. What’s the harm in flirting too?